Sandwich
by LadyWallace
Summary: Castiel may not be able to do much for the Winchesters anymore, but sometimes it's the smallest gestures that count.


**This is a request fic for NordicRivers on Ao3. I really don't know if this is what you were looking for, and I'm not entirely sure what this story even is, but I hope you enjoy it XD**

**Set season 7 Tag to episode 7x23**

Sandwich

A Supernatural Fanfic

_Castiel may not be able to do much for the Winchesters anymore, but sometimes it's the smallest gestures that count._

He couldn't help but feel a little useless. After all, once, Castiel had been one of Heaven's finest warriors, and now he was reduced to this shell of his former self that even he didn't know how to break out of. Or rather, didn't really want to.

He knew what Sam and Dean needed was a warrior to help them win against Dick Roman and the Leviathans. But he couldn't give them that. He couldn't fight anymore. Not now. The thought of killing anything after all the killing he had already done, turned his stomach. He was done with the violence of war.

But there were other things he could do to help. The food crisis in America was bad. It made it hard for Sam and Dean to find food to eat. They had been living off of organic produce, but Castiel wasn't even certain that hadn't been tainted, and Dean was constantly complaining about it, or not eating at all. If they were going to face Dick Roman, they should at least have a good meal in their bellies to give them more energy.

That, Castiel decided he could do.

So he set out, flying to rural Europe, where he came across a small farm in Normandy that didn't look like it had changed much since the 19th century. He asked an old woman there for some of the wheat flour and for her to teach him how to make bread. She was kind and lonely, and took pity on Castiel who also seemed lonely and perhaps a little lost. One of those things was more correct than the other.

In return, he healed her arthritis and left with a loaf of fresh, still-warm bread tucked into a basket, wrapped in a cloth.

Next, he went to a market and found the best of lettuce and tomato that was to be had. Both far better than any of the organic vegetables Sam and Dean had been eating. Castiel had always thought that the term 'organic' was strange anyway. All things living were, after all, organic matter.

Then onward to a small cheesemaker in Switzerland where Castiel found some lovely cheese that had been created long before Dick Roman had gotten out of Purgatory. This, he knew, would make for a nice sandwich.

But that left one ingredient still. The meat.

This proved a bit of a problem for Castiel, he realized, as he stood now, watching the pigs at the farm. This was not the sort you would see where they mass produced lunch meat and bacon and the pigs were usually kept in appalling conditions—this was a huge piece of land where the pigs roamed free, happy until the day that they would shuffle off this mortal coil.

The problem was the shuffling. Castiel found that he wanted to do it himself, after all, this was one of the last few things he could do for the Winchesters, but at the same time, he still hated the thought of killing anything, even for food.

He struggled inwardly as he watched the pig he had picked. It was small but plump, and snuffled among the grass looking for something to eat.

It eventually made its way over to Castiel and sniffed his shoe.

"Hello," Castiel said to it. He crouched down cautiously and held out his hand, which the pig also proceeded to sniff, curious.

"I do hope you know it's not personal," Castiel began speaking to the pig as he examined it for any diseases or tainting. There were none. It was in excellent condition. Just the right age too and the right meat-to-fat ratio on its bones. "It's only, there's these two men. They're brave—heroes. They have not been eating much of late due to problems with the food source and so I have come to find them one last good meal before they go to meet their enemy on the field of battle."

The pig cocked an ear and snorted as if listening with interest.

"I've decided I'm not going to fight anymore," Castiel told the pig. "I did too much wrong before. Though it might seem odd that a warrior such as I would turn into a pacifist at a time when I am most needed…" He sighed. "Sometimes we never know where our lives will lead us. I suppose you don't either. Perhaps that is for the best."

The pig looked up at him and Castiel reached out and scratched it behind the ears before resting his hand on its head.

"Or perhaps you do. Your species is incredibly intelligent."

He thought briefly about calling Meg to do it for him. She would, he knew it, but for some reason he didn't want her to know. This was something he had to do himself. He couldn't allow her to hold his hand through everything. He had been allowing that too much of late.

"It won't hurt," he promised the pig. "And it is necessary that I bring Sam and Dean food." This last bit was to himself more than the animal.

The pig froze and looked up to meet his eyes, raising its head in a way that seemed like he was offering his consent.

Castiel closed his eyes, inevitability washing over him. "Your sacrifice is a worthy one."

It was painless for the pig, over in a second, but Castiel felt what the animal hadn't in his heart. He pushed it aside with the other things though and went to cure the meat—quickening the process with his own powers, and then he returned with his sandwich making items and set about assembling them.

He cut the bread and the tomato and cheese carefully. Selected crunchy leaves of lettuce and piled on the ham. He stood for a moment staring at the two picture perfect sandwiches. Then he took up the plates and brought them to Sam and Dean.

"None of this should cause you any ill effects," he told them as he handed over the sandwiches. "Please, accept these sandwiches as a gesture of solidarity."

Sam and Dean looked surprised, but then cautiously took the sandwiches and eventually Dean was the first to take a big bite. His eyes widened a little as Castiel watched anxiously.

"Wow," the elder Winchester said. "This is actually amazing."

Sam took a bite of his own and nodded in agreement. "Wow, yeah. Thank you, Cas."

And it wasn't really that important, and it wasn't really going to change anything, but Castiel smiled, feeling a little lighter as he watched the Winchesters enjoy the food he had prepared for them. It may not be much, but sometimes it was the little things that counted.


End file.
